Category: creativity

Chalk Therapy

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This post was originally published on Medium and more of my work can be found over there @karenfayeth.

Five Reasons Why Being Alone is Healthy

A list to share with your mom who wants you to make some friends already



Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels.

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Sure, the Pandemic made us take a different look at the concept of being alone. And being locked up in our homes. And also breathing. But that’s all behind us now. Mostly.

What remains is rampant introversion, widespread social awkwardness, and large pockets of agoraphobia.

I’m here to ask: Is that so bad?

I’m also here to tell you that maybe it isn’t. Let me give you plenty of justification, er, reasons why being alone is great!

If I can do it you can too.

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You never have to question who ate all of the pizza rolls

Also, no one judges you when you DoorDash oh-so-many more. None of this “Are you going to eat all of that?” and “Don’t you think you have a problem?”

No, eat and burn the roof of your mouth to your heart’s content, judgment free.

Plus, eating without judgment is healthy:

How to Stop Judging Your Food Choices Once and for All


Showers? Eh, optional

You can wait to bathe until you are too funky for yourself and that bar is certainly higher than when someone else has to smell you. Saves on time, saves on water. Win-win.

Besides, showering less often is healthy:

In The Era Of Hygiene, ‘Clean’ Author Makes The Case For Showering Less


You can sleep in the middle of the bed

You can also sleep sprawled out like a starfish. Snore as much as you’d like with zero elbows to the ribs. Just you and as many pillows as makes you happy. You can have all of the blankets and all of the mattress, too. Embrace all that sleep. It’s beautiful.

Also, sleeping alone is healthy. Wait, that’s not actually what the research says. Hmm. Well, despite that, plenty of people still say they’d rather sleep alone:

In defense of sleeping solo: 60 percent of you prefer your own bed


Breaking wind. Passing Gas. Tooting.

This is the best benefit of living alone. We were all thinking it. I am just not ashamed to say it. And do it. Loud, proud, and without hesitation. No need to say excuse me. No holding it in or going to another room to let it out. No trying to silently squeak it out. No, your grandma was right: better out than in. Give it a little vibrato if you can. Be proud of your accomplishment.

In colloquial terms, let ‘er rip. It’s healthy:

Why Farting Is Good for You


Follow your creative pursuits without interruption

You can paint without judgment. Write without someone peering over your shoulder. Sing loudly without that pesky side eye. Yes, while alone you can really let yourself be and give over to The Muses. Creative pursuits take time and you can devote however much time you want when you are alone, no need to feel guilty about taking time away from family.

And in case you didn’t know, being alone might just make you more creative:

Do you need to be alone to be creative? Here’s what the experts say

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Taken all together, I am pretty proud of the case I have presented here for the benefits of being alone. It’s great! Everyone should do it.

Separately and not together, I mean.

Okay, fine. Being alone does have its benefits but it also has some big drawbacks. When being alone becomes being lonely, that can cause some real mental and physical concerns. I think a lot of that has recently come to light during and now post-pandemic.

Here’s some analysis to consider:

Being Alone: The Pros and Cons of Time Alone

I hate to say that Mom may be right about you (and me) needing to get out of the house a little, but she may be right. That pains me to say.

I guess at the end of that day, it’s like the old saying goes:

All things in moderation.

Except pizza rolls. Those are no limit all day every day.

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This post was originally published on Medium and more of my work can be found over there @karenfayeth.

Wait, what?



Wait, what? I have a story published in Chicken Soup for the Soul? Yessss!!!
 
Chicken Soup for the Soul: Lessons Learned from My Cat, in stores tomorrow, February 14, 2023



That’s me! Page 191!! “Status Report” is about trying to put a cat on a diet. Lesson Learned? Don’t.


I’ve learned plenty from Dahlia, who was adopted on this day, eight years ago (when she was 4 years old). Each year I give thanks Berkeley Humane for taking care of our girl until we could find her. Royalties from every copy of Chicken Soup for The Soul: Lessons Learned from My Cat go to American-Humane, the country’s first national humane organization.


Uh oh, Dahlia just realized the story isn’t about her. It’s about Gypsy our lovely, naughty, food loving cat who looked a whole lot like the cat on the cover of the book. We miss her, she was a great cat.

Seeds

 

A Rumination On the Value of Mentors

 
   

Image for post

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

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The first day of this new year finds me in a thoughtful place and I know I’m hardly alone here. I think the end of 2020 and the new year 2021 has found a lot of us in in a thoughtful place and full of rumination.

It would be easy to look on 2020 as a mulligan. A do-over. A throw-that-in-the-bin and never think about it again kind of thing. Take it out with the trash.

But to do so would be a mistake. 2020 was a lesson. A mentor. A cruel but perhaps necessary education.

The past several days has me thinking about teachers and mentors who impacted me and more specifically, impacted my art. About how many of them are not in my life anymore, for various reasons. And how much I yearn to find replacements, how hard I seek the wise advice of those who know so much more than I do.

In fact, getting a mentor’s view on the lessons and tragedies of the previous year is exactly what I seek.

To my great sadness, in November within the span of forty-eight hours I lost two of the most influential women in my life. I find myself on day one of 2021 still reeling from their loss and scared to face the road ahead without their wise guidance.

On November 6th, my dear mother-in-law who was more like a friend and one of the strongest working artists I know, passed gently at home with her beloved son by her side.

On November 8th, my photography teacher and dear friend passed peacefully at home under the loving care of her wife of 22 years.

These double blows were hard to take. I even wondered at the time if I could sustain the loss.

In a text to my best friend, I told her that the grief was stacking up and I had no idea where to put it all. Could I build metaphorical shelves to store the pain? Maybe rent a unit where I could put all of this sorrow and then sort through it on the weekends?

No, there are no metal shelves and no locked doors to store the grief. Turns out I have to carry it with me. At times the load bends my back into a question mark. At other times I carry it almost (but not quite) lightly.

I can forget about it for a moment and think I am through and then a smell or a sound or a visual will bring it all right back with weight and ferocity and my back bends further. Bend but not break is the theme, or at least the hope.

I have questions. I have thoughts. I have worries. I have wonders. I am working on a big project, a goal I set for myself and it is a big goal and oh how I wish I could talk to both of these powerful, creative, and smart women to get my head on straight about it.

One would make me a cup of coffee and listen to my thoughts and fears and tell me that she understands and how hard it can be, but that continuing to work, that doing the work, is what matters.

One would make me a cup of twig tea and then verbally shove me around a little in the most beautiful and caring way, telling me to forget what anyone else or the voices in my head say, to just keep making art. Because making art is necessary in this world. Not a nice to have, but mandatory.

And then dazed and thoughtful after each of their wise counsel, I would go back out there into this mad world and I would keep making art. Putting word to page, and paint to paper, and images through a lens.

Because the road to making art is a long road, the journey beautiful and painful and frustrating and worth it. One must walk through low valleys of making really bad art and occasionally look up to find you have arrived at the peak of a beautiful hill. That something you made is actually not that bad and might actually be very good.

From that view atop the hill you can see more hills, steeper and more meaningful and you must, have to, can’t stop now, start moving towards them. Sights recalibrated, on you must go. To keep walking is what matters. To keep walking is necessary.

Even though I miss them both so much perhaps I can find them, then, in just continuing to do the work I set out for myself. And when in doubt, I make myself a cup of coffee or a cup of twig tea and sip and pause and listen and then…get back to work.

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To find an image to accompany these words, I went to Unsplash with their thousands of free images, and searched with the word “mentor.” My eyes landed on the image found at the top of this piece. I loved the color and the visual and the feel of the photo. “But that isn’t about being a mentor,” I thought. And then realized I was wrong.

The dandelion with its many seeds waiting for a gust of wind to carry them off is actually perfect. Exactly the image I needed to see. Writing this out, saying these words helps me carry my grief a little bit lighter today.

I cast my own seeds of creativity to the wind. I can’t wait to see where they land.

This post is dedicated to the beautiful art and spirit of both Jamie Dedes and Marty Rose Springer and the impact they had on my life. I am forever in their debt.

The End of a Dry Spell

Photo by Tijs van Leur on Unsplash

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This crazy ol’ 2020 has been weird in a lot of ways. I think we are all getting used to a “new normal,” whatever that means.

During this time of shelter in place a lot of things have changed. Our old routines may be out of whack. How we go about the day is certainly different.

But these crazy days also have a lot of us searching for comfort in the same routines, if they are possible to keep. “Trying to normalize,” is what I keep saying. What did I do before? How did that go? Can do I that now and will it help me to feel normal during a time that is anything but?

One thing I have kept up with is my submissions of short stories. I have been doing my best to keep my work out there for well over a decade, and I didn’t want to let that drop right now. Even as most days I just want to slouch in a big chair and forget about the world outside.

I have found that being creative is very hard for me right now, too many things are occupying my mind. Working on getting submissions of work already complete out to the world is a normalizing process these days.

Despite my keeping the submission train running on time, 2020 has been a bit of a dry spell for acceptances. I had a lovely story published for Valentine’s Day in February (which had been accepted in December) and then the well dried right up after that.

Part of working to be published is knowing that these dry spells happen. They are normal and to be expected, and possibly a little more expected during this time of pandemic as we all figure things out.

So it was with great joy that in mid-September I opened an email from the editors at Bindweed Magazine with an acceptance. Whew! Feels good, you know? I get hundreds of emails with a no, so that yes every once is a while is tonic to a hardworking writer’s soul.

I’m now pleased to share my story “Possibilities. And Turtles.” with you. If you have a moment to give it a read, I would greatly appreciate it. And stay a while over there at Bindweed, there are some beautiful works to find in their pages.

Now more than ever, supporting the arts and artists matters, so I thank you in advance for the read.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I need to go do a whoop and a little click of the heels, then get back to the business of submitting my stories.